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01. Ah Yan
Twentieth Year of Yuan He
Shiliu had never been a heavy sleeper, not even in the relative safety of his family’s manor. And it only got worse in his new surroundings. The strangeness of his new room in the palace, grand and ornate, and yet so alien seemed to have intimidated the sleep so it could never enter his chambers. That sense of loss and loneliness that weighed down against his chest the moment he was alone kept him constantly on edge, unable to let go even in sleep. Mixed in with that was the constant reminder, always in his fathers voice, that he had slacked off in his training, that he hadn’t been good enough, that he was growing weaker. It pressed in on any side of his mind that he tried to clear, until it was the only thought in his consciousness.
He was useless if he slacked off, and yet the puppets in the Palace never chased him like those in the Marquis manor, they never challenged him the same way. More and more, his young mind had begun to understand and regret that a training worthy of princes would only serve to cripple the heir of the Gu family…. to cripple him further that was.
And the Gu family would rather have no heir than a crippled one. But he was all the Gu family had left. Outside of those dreams anyway.
Dreams wasn’t the best word for them, perhaps nightmares, but your own family didn’t appear in your nightmares, surely? Every night Shiliu closed his eyes and found himself looking up at the tall and imposing warriors of the Gu family, whose windslashers now guarded the memorial hall. And those figures in turn watched their last heir be beaten to a humiliating defeat by puppets that were in reality gathering dust in an empty Marquis manor.
In the dreams, he saw his his father shaking his head in disappointment and shame. Grandfathers and great grandfathers glared down at him, towering above his small body and seeming as tall as the puppets they commanded. Their eyes, full of judgement, were illuminated only by the ziliujin flames from his combatants, seeming to glow with the same unnatural. The still and silent puppets came closer and closer, blocking his view of even his family. And Shiliu braced for an attack he was never trained enough for, never strong enough for.
That night, as on every other night, Shiliu struggled to raise his heavy sword to defend himself, too weak, too slow, able only to watch a cold iron blade descending on him as the world exploded.
It was several moments after Shiliu woke up that his consciousness reasserted itself, and he realised a crash had in fact resounded through his section in the forbidden palace. From….. unless his ears deceived him— and with the medicine so recently taken, surely they couldn’t— from Ah Yan’s room.
Quickly, barely pausing to put on his boots, Shiliu rushed to the door of his room, and when his careful check showed a courtyard deserted but for even more guardian puppets, ran to ah Yan’s door as fast as his little legs could carry him.
In his time in the forbidden palace, Ah Yan had soon become his closest friend. And Shiliu, with his naturally excessive desire to protect others, always worried over the gentle, frail boy.
He found Ah Yan sitting up in bed, twin tracks of tears streaming unnoticed down his face as he stared at something on his bedside.
A quick mental inventory of his own room told Shiliu what was missing— so did the complete lack of illumination in Ah Yan’s rooms. The Western Lamp that the Emperor had gifted all four princes— or rather— the three royal princes and Gu Yun was missing. Where the fourth prince whose lamp Shiliu’s should’ve been was, no one knew.
“A nightmare,” Ah Yan explained helplessly, as Shiliu approached the bed. The little prince still seemed completely unaware of the tears trickling down his cheeks, until Shiliu carefully wiped them away. “I was scared, I-”
Quite an evening for nightmares, Shiliu thought. He wondered if the two older princes were even now being startled awake by some horror of their minds making? What about the fourth prince, whenever he was. Did he too wake up in terror on this night?
Ah Yan paused in the middle of a confused ramble about his nightmare, looked at the lamp, and his face seemed to crumble further. “Royal father would be upset— he —” and then, as though a horror greater than the emperor’s disappointment occurred to him, “It’s so dark.” He mumbled.
It seemed the tears would start again, whatever his young friend had seen had clearly distressed him very much. In a moment, Shiliu forgot his own disturbed sleep, his friend was upset, and naturally he had to help.
Shiliu did not remember his mother well, he could only find in his heart memories of her smile, of her strictness, her leniency, of the two of them singing tunelessly together until that fateful day the world had gone silent.
He also remembered, or hoped he remembered, his mother pressing her lips to his forehead and rocking him gently when he cried. It was a comfort he had always clung to on those nights he was startled awake.
Pressing his lips to anyone’s forehead was somewhat harder to do for him, than his mother. Ah Yan may have been a year younger, but he was already taller than Shiliu, who had to kneel up in bed to manage the manoeuvres his mother employed.
He gently kissed Ah Yan’s forehead, repeated the action with a kiss to the temple- for luck, and rocked them gently until his knees hurt, and his arm was sore from stroming Ah Yan’s back. His best friend had long since fallen asleep, Shiliu sighed with relief and exhaustion. He hadn’t expected that to work, honestly. He would probably have laughed if anyone had tried that on him now.
Only then did Shiliu sneak out of bed, and carefully carry the broken pieces of Ah Yan’s lamp over to his own room. Let the blame in the moment of discovery fall on him then.
His best friend could never sleep in the dark, while for Shiliu, as much as he needed the light to see by at nights, the same light began to grate the moment his sensitive eyes were closed. He could always manage with a candle, if the broken lamp proved damaged beyond use.
A part of him noticed how the lamp from his own room felt heavier in his hand, and he could only hope it wasn’t because some big piece had broken off Ah Yan’s lamp, ready to give them away later.
02. Shen Yi
Twenty-Fifth Year of Yuan He
The 16 year old Marshal Gu could never in a million years have expected that the hardest aspect of rebuilding the black iron camp wouldn’t be finding the men to do so, but rather, finding weapons and armour for them. Not on the meagre funds Emperor Yuan He deigned to provide.
And yet, this monumental task had fallen on his shoulders, accompanied only by a Xiu Zhong Si as mitigation from the emperor. What one Xiu Zhong Si could do against an entire invading army, only the emperor could know.
As impressive as the armours of the old marquis’s days had been, they were also old, and outdated, and familiar even to the enemies they’d once beaten. How could Gu Yun ever expect to lead any army- however skilled- to victory with them? They served well enough to train his handful of recruits, and yet soon, they would require something better.
On that day, he had not intended to visit Ji Ping to extract a solution from him. Indeed, Gu Yun, beyond vaguely knowing his closest friend worked in mechanics, could never have spoken for the skill or lack thereof Ji Ping exhibited in his chosen field. The other boy’s excited chatter about machines and puppets frequently made Gu Yuns eyes glaze over in drowsiness.
And yet, somehow, against all his expectations, on that sunny day, Ji Ping did exactly that. He listened to Gu Yun’s furious tirade- some slanderous, some simply hilariously crass- with his brow furrowed, and his lips pursed. And then quite suddenly, he started up, and left the room in rather a hurry. Quite insulting, Gu Yun considered that. If Ji Ping wanted him to be quiet so badly, he could’ve simply said so.
But then, Shen Yi rushed back into the workroom moments later- several long moments later- moments which Gu Yun spent in fidgeting with the gears and gadgets around the workroom and idly cursing that traitor surnamed Shen.
All curses were forgotten as Shen Yi had brought over his papers and writing implements, and begun to explain materials and plans. Mechanics might have bored Gu Yun, but armours and weapons he understood, and the alterations his friend now proposed — only slightly more expensive than the funds allotted to the revival of the black iron camp.
The impossible task he’d been handed, suddenly seemed like one he could achieve.
In his enthusiasm, Gu Yun found himself jumping up and throwing his arms around Shen Yi. At 16, he didn’t often show the youthful enthusiasm others his age- others not burdened by the Gu family name, and responsibilities could. But now he couldn’t help cling on to his friend’s neck as tightly as his arms could manage, the restless excitement he felt making him turn to the side and plant a set of enthusiastic kisses on Ji Ping’s cheek.
That broke them up. Shen Yi made a disgusted face and stepped back, and Gu Yun only laughed joyously and went back to tracing the plans with a reverent finger, hardly able to still his feet and stay in place. If this could only work…. He could have kissed Old Zhang Feng Han or the Emperor Yuan He, if they had happened to cross his path at that moment.
It wasn’t long after this that he stole the promising young recruit of the Shen family from the Ling Shu institute to the black iron camp, to serve as a direct subordinate under him.
The move was ostensibly to implement the new design and maintain upkeep in person, but even more so- for Shen Yi to be the balance for Gu Yun which he would desperately need if he was to succeed in building back his army’s former glory.
03. Shen Yi
Twenty-Sixth Year of Yuan He
“Look at us, the best times of our youths and no beauty to be found. Only coarse men eating sand.” Shen Yi was lamenting, as he and Gu Yun stared down at the camp stretching out in front of them.
“I’ve heard….” Gu Yun began, and then paused. “In the East, relationships between men are quite common. The way they’d be between men and women.”
Shen Yi thoughtfully tapped the wine jar Gu Yun had handed him a moment before, “But what do they do?”
Gu Yun played dumb, “What do who do?” He asked innocently.
Shen Yi rolled his eyes and stole a second gulp of the wine in retaliation. “The men. What do they do with other men?”
Gu Yun shrugged, and looked at Shen Yi from the corner of his eye. Seeing Shen Yi was an accident though, Gu Yun’s eyes were firmly rooted to the wine jar that should’ve been returned to him, and yet seemed on its way to that glutton Shen’s mouth for a third time.
His focus soon shifted, however, from the rim of the wine jar, to his friends lips, wet and glistening with wine. They almost reminded him of the rouge the women entertainers seemed to wear, more from how briefly he’d been allowed to experience those lips than any true resemblance, most likely.
The comparison was after all, rather insulting to them. Shen Yi, having just discovered his tendency to grow a moustache seemed tragically inclined to keep it. And no amount of unkindly expressed aesthetic advice from Gu Yun seemed to deter him.
And yet, horrific as it no doubt looked to the eye, Gu Yun wondered how it would feel to have the sharp bristles of a man’s stubble rub against his own sensitive skin. How, for that matter, would kissing a man feel?
Before Gu Yun could reconsider his next words, they were spilling out of his mouth. It may have been the wine speaking, but his was unfortunately the voice which suggested: “We could try it?”
Shen Yi was momentarily surprised out of his wine monopoly and Gu Yun snatched the jar away. “Kissing.” He said absently, taking another swig himself.
Shen Yi just looked more confused, “Kissing whom?” And then a moment later “But i can’t kiss you!”
“Very likely you won’t be able.” Gu Yun countered snidely, and then rather ruined the effect by adding “What’s a kiss between friends. I’ve kissed you before.”
“That doesn’t count.” Shen Yi snapped.
“Scared?” Gu Yun taunted, secure now in the realisation that Ji Ping would never take him up on this foolish idea. And equally secure in his grip on the wine jar.
Shen Yi: “No.”
“It’s alright to admit you’re scared, Ji Ping.” Gu Yun said kindly. He rather fancied he could see the steam starting to rise from Shen Ji Ping’s ears, it was quite entertaining.
“I’m not scared!” Shen Yi protested sullenly.
“Of course, you aren’t.” Gu Yun agreed, quite pleased with himself now that he could poke at his grumpy friend's temper. Good wine and good entertainment, that was all he ever needed, and currently he was being provided both.
Unfortunately, Marshal Gu’s enjoyment did not last very long, because a moment later, the bumbling fool Shen Ji Ping kissed him.
The first sign of the impending kiss was the clack of teeth hitting his own, a beginner’s mistake which made Gu Yun devoutly hope he wasn’t his friend's first kiss. And then he angled his mouth to the right a little as Shen Yi’s moved to accommodate, and strong arms slid around his waist, a hand titling his chin up, and……...
“……… That was boring,” Shen Yi said after a while, moving away and scratching his stubble. His words may have carried more weight had their delivery been less flustered. His voice wasn’t quite steady, and his chest was rising and falling too fast, but Gu Yun was in no position to throw stones just then. “Those men in the east can’t get much out of this, Huh?”
But it hadn’t been quite as boring to Gu Yun. Horrifying as the idea of finding any aspect of old maid Shen Ji Ping attractive was, it was hard to deny. The feel of a hard muscle in place of soft curves, the necessity to tilt his head up, rather than leaning down, the strength in the arms that had encircled his waist— they'd all been strange, but by no means unpleasant. The stubble had been unpleasant, perhaps, but that was all this bumbling Shen Ji Ping’s fault. It felt like kissing a hedgehog, and a none too gentle one at that.
Had it been any man but Ji Ping, however……
But this was old maid Ji Ping, and admitting weakness would never do. He’d be bullied for it as long as he lived. Gu Yun cleared his throat, plastered a smug grin on his face, and took another gulp of wine to wash away the odd taste.
“Good job, Ji Ping, you have finally managed to injure me.” He informed Shen Yi, voice shrill and whinging, “Such a beautiful face and all scraped raw by that broom you insist on growing on your face.”
He abandoned the wine jar to place a patronising hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Listen to a wiser man more experienced in the matters of romance, Ji Ping. No woman will look twice at you if you insist on appearing in public with that growth on your face.”
Normalcy was restored as the two of them descended back to bickering. Gu Yun might’ve liked to repeat this particular experiment again, but definitely with a different test subject.
04. General Jiang
Twenty-Seventh Year of Yuan He
Gu Yun met General Jiang on one of his rare trips to the capital, a short while before General Jiang was to be transferred to the South, and a friendship had soon sprung up between them. General Jiang was slightly older, and a lot more tempered, but he was steady, and comforting.
With Gu Yun having just lost his fiancée, the capital was rife with rumours of the Gu family misfortune. Who didn’t know of his widowerhood before he could ever marry the young lady. It felt like the tragedy preceded him to any room he entered, and didn’t leave for some time after he did.
To his mingled surprise and relief, General Jiang never spoke of it. With him, finally, there was someone quiet and understanding, who didn't point fingers at the son of heaven the way Ji Ping did, and who didn’t stare and nudge and throw him pitying looks the way the rest of the world did.
It was only when they were parting to go to their posts again, that he referred to the matter at all.
“Keep this for luck.” General Jiang said quietly, as he carefully wrapped a familiar amulet around Gu Yun’s wrist. “It’s supposed to be blessed. I always… I’ve worn it for a long time but, I hope it can help you.”
He then kissed Gu Yun on the forehead, brushed a second kiss on the corner of his mouth, gave him one final smile, and was gone before the young general had time to recover.
It was three months later that Gu Yun received news that General Jiang had perished in an ambush along the treacherous pass in the mountains, on his way back from what should’ve been a shining victory.
The hand which had delivered the blow was clear to them all, and yet, who could speak against the one in the capital.
General Jiang didn't belong to the Black Iron Camp, there was no windslasher to send home in his stead. There was however something else. Something the general’s younger brother might have greater claim on.
Gu Yun stroked the amulet on his wrist thoughtfully, regretfully. And then, in an unusual occurrence for him in those days when Shen Yi had taken over the bulk of his tactful correspondence, personally wrote a letter to General Jiang’s elder brother- Hanshi, with the amulet attached.
He then bade farewell to his hopes for that friendship- and whatever intimacy it had brought- with the bird he dispatched to the capital.
No amulet could save him from the Gu Family curse. The star which controlled his love fate was as blighted as the evening venus shining above him.
05. A Potential Adversary
The First Year of Long An
A general of a neighbouring nation, a nation Da Liang only had an uneasy truce with, was the last person Gu Yun should’ve been dallying with. And yet who better? Here was someone whose death could be spoken of out loud, if at all. Here was someone whose demise the emperor could be blamed— credited— for.
Here was someone very attractive, showing an interest in him.
Gu Yun ignored Shen Yi’s glare and pointed jibes as he allowed the man to hold his hand and tug him to his feet. The wine made him reckless, and it also made him unsteady in his steps. But Marshal Gu could never appear to stumble. A pillar holding his nation up couldn’t falter before his enemies.
He covered the movement up with a swipe at the drink Shen Yi had just been raising to his own lips, and knowing he’d regret mixing whatever horrid liquor his friend had been nursing for the past few hours with his own considerable intake, downed it in a swallow.
The passage of no more than half an incense time found him in a darkened alcove, pressing his potential adversary against a wall, his own mouth swallowing the moans the man made, struggling to stay quiet.
This was forbidden. There was a chance he would some day be forcing this man’s surrender on the battle field, the loyalty of the Black Iron Camp he’d spent the better part of his life earning was at stake on this casual tumble. It wasn’t as though he was falling in love with a barbarian prince at least.
But life as a lowly sentry to the silk route was dreary, and the risks just what he had been needing.
Chang Geng
It was the Fifth Year of Long An, in a den belonging to a bandit, Gu Yun first experienced the sensation that he’d later identify as having his boat overturned in a pond.
Chang Geng, having just confessed brazenly to investigating his own Yifu, had placed his palm placatingly on the back of Gu Yun's hand.
It was the barest contact, the strength no greater than that used to cradle a hatchling, his hand retreating almost before Gu Yun could register the action and move his own away. But somehow he felt like he’d been stunned.
To avoid staring stupidly at his own hand in a daze, Gu Yun looked up. And found himself staring into Chang Geng’s eyes instead.
Warm brown eyes, gazing up at him with more devotion and affection than was seemly for their relationship, every line of Chang Geng’s body seeming to suggest only the greatest respect and deference. A deceptive appearance Gu Yun knew, in his son’s hand were plans drawn up by the Lin Yuan pavilion, and in his apologetic smile was a reminder that he hadn’t hesitated to uncover all of Gu Yun’s own great deeds.
Gu Yun swallowed drily.
Even now, the back of his hand tingled. Chang Geng’s hands had been warm too, so warm Gu Yun only then realised how cold his own hands always were. He would’ve strongly contested anyone’s suggestion that he required gentle handling, but he hadn’t disliked the way Chang Geng had treated him in the inn, and the way he had now. A traitorous part of him wanted the warmth of Chang Geng’s hand enveloping his again.
His heart was twisting in his chest, tenderness he’d buried deep in his heart and tried to hold in with an iron armour was spilling out before he could stop it. Tenderness and protectiveness, a realisation that he would bring down every star in the sky just to keep this brilliant young man’s eyes shining at him in this way forever.
It felt exhilarating, as he heard Chang Geng outline plans he’d somehow extracted from the Lin Yuan Pavilion, plans which would further him regain the upper hand. That feeling of meeting a match who could keep up with him had returned. The promise of challenge and understanding and a strength that would match his own. He had never predicted how good a tactician his little wolf cub could grow into being.
It felt right too, like a piece clicking into place, it felt like the first time he’d kissed a man. As though if he hadn’t felt what he did in this moment, he would only have lived a half life. And now, those possibilities were tantalisingly close to him, unfurling like a flower bud in bloom.
It felt like home, and comfort. Gentleness and kindness that were so infrequent in his life- that he had truly forgotten what they felt like. The intimacy of any contact not shared with someone he would be running through before he could register their existence as anything but a threat. Like rain on the parched land of a desert, bringing back a life that had long felt lost. Chang Gengs words and understanding carrying with them so much hope.
It felt forbidden, somehow worse than even an enemy on the battlefield. Here was the very last person who should’ve set off this confusing maelstrom in his chest. Chang Geng was no longer his son even in name, but that only meant Gu Yun no longer had any claim on him, though he still had was his duty to the boy. After all who else did Xiao Chang Geng have, if not him? Who else was there to make sure his feet never strayed from the brightly lit future he could have- a place in the capital, safe from harm, a wife, children who would be the living image of their brilliant father. And perhaps, Gu Yun, correcting the mistakes he made in his treatment of Chang Geng when he spoilt them, if he lived that long.
Chang Geng had been entrusted to Gu Yun to take care of, a task Gu Yun had already failed so often at. And in any case, Chang Geng hadn’t even displayed any interest in him. Even if his touches and his gaze lingered on Gu Yun longer than necessary, it couldn’t mean anything. Perhaps he had missed Gu Yun as much as Gu Yun had missed him, perhaps their reunion felt as surreal to him as it did to Gu Yun.
And the brat had only held his hand, for heaven’s sake. Gu Yun was a great general of the black iron camp, he had loved and left or lost many men and women before this. He was not a young maiden from a sheltered family on her first tryst.
There would be time to consider this later, perhaps never have to consider it at all. For now, there was scheming to do, and threats to counter. But even as Gu Yun attempted to distract himself with that thought, he had a sinking suspicion the greatest threat was the brilliant and beautiful young prince sitting across from him.